Page 23 of Filthy Beginnings

She had never been so reckless before. So driven by lust that she forgot everything else, even her survival.

Even now, the urge to slide down the bed and beg Damien Skolov to pick up where he’d left off thundered through her blood, a drumbeat of filthy, raw need she could barely leash.

“You need to go.” Her gaze flickered toward the door. It was a miracle they hadn’t been discovered. At least they were both back to speaking in full sentences now—and he’d stopped before he marked or rutted her.

His scowl deepened. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“The guards—”

“I paid them enough not to hear anything at all. Right now, they’re down the hall, being entertained by a couple of omegas who are also being paid handsomely to keep them distracted.”

Oh.

No wonder no one had come. Bribes were a way of life in the dome, but with no money of her own, she usually could not take advantage.

Apparently, Damien Skolov did not have the same problem.

He stalked toward the bed.

Tugging at the restraints, she curled her spine into the headboard, yellow splashing across her skin. “What are you doing? I know it might seem from my willing behavior before that—”

His jaw went tight. “I would never fucking hurt you. Or force you.”

And yet, he kept coming.

Even the muscles in his neck bulged as he loomed above, arms outstretched.

She held her breath.

But those massive arms only extended past her, lifting her and the mattress with minimal effort, his big hand sweeping beneath. “There.”

The restraints holding her to the bed sagged.

He dropped the mattress, but didn’t step back. She landed with a bounce, flat on her back, his big body above hers.

“Better.” He wasn’t asking. Instead, he stared down at her with a satisfied look. For the first time, amber edged out the red of his gaze and she glimpsed his natural eye color outside the throes of rut.

It was almost as disorienting as the realization that he’d unclipped the restraints from beneath the bed.

For such a brawny guy, he was proving to have a resourceful mind as well.

“Thank you.” Sitting up, she rubbed at her wrists, the long end of the restraints dangling against her thighs. It was nice to move freely, but even without the ties, her skin beneath the cuffs burned. Just like her throat.

Just like the throbbing, swollen area between her thighs.

All because of this Alpha.

“I never want to do anything that would cause you harm.” His earnest, deep rumble snapped her gaze back to him.

Her chest pinched tight. She felt the same.

Literally. As if faint, invisible tendrils stretched from him to her and back again, telegraphing the chaos of his emotions: protectiveness, lust, need, frustration, and fury, as if they were her own.

And maybe they were.

All she wanted was to beg him to touch her again.

But that could not happen. He was a fighter. She was a prize. If caught, there would be no end to her suffering and his.

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